Inchoate
by ColieMacKenzie
Summary: His eyes find her across the distance. He disentangles himself, walks toward her and for a moment it's like no time has passed and nothing is different... Future fic.


_a/n: Deviates somewhat from what I usually write. Read at your own peril. _

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**Inchoate**

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The air scintillates with heat, the sky a hazy light blue that whitens out against the horizon and Kate swipes at a bead of sweat that slides down her forehead, tucks one foot underneath her as she curls against the back of the glider. It creaks when she pushes off with her toe, sets it in motion, and the rocking weaves its spell over her exhausted body, her eyelids sinking closed, all of her heavy in the thick cushions.

A hand softly brushes her shoulder and she blinks open her eyes, finds Jenny hovering, Jenny with her quiet, unassuming smile, handing her a glass of wine before she disappears back inside the house. The white wine is crisp against her tongue, wonderfully cold when she tips the glass to her lips, savors the first sip as it slides down her throat. Kate cradles the bulbous glass in her palm, her thumb swiping mindless patterns into the fog of condensation.

A shriek pierces the oppressive afternoon silence and she startles, her eyes seeking out the rambunctious gaggle of children across the yard, bright swimsuits and skinny arms and legs flying about, pushing and chanting and giggling. She smiles at the bright, effortless joy as they throw themselves down the slip-n-slide, jump in and out of the sprinkler, run and squeal, fall and get back up, and she thinks that she might almost be happy.

She knows he's near even before their daughters' chorus of 'daddy, daddy' announces his arrival, knows by the long familiar prickle that crawls up her neck and the amorphous skip of her heart. She tries to steel against it, straightens her spine and yet she can't tear her eyes away from him while he hugs the girls to the solid strength of his body, one on each side, his broad palms curved around their narrow shoulders, his eyes closing for a drawn-out moment.

Then the rest crowds around him and he effortlessly morphs into fun, funny, favorite Uncle Rick, playful and laughing with them as he distributes high-fives and hugs, ruffles hair and swings first Savannah and then little Gabriel high up into the air until they shriek and giggle. At last he fist-bumps Espo in greeting, then hugs Isobel, careful around the wide circumference of her extended belly, and Kate almost aches with the long-lost memory of Castle's arms encircling her the same warm, caring way, feels the ghost touch of his fingers along her lower back.

His eyes find her across the distance. He disentangles himself, walks toward her and for a moment it's like no time has passed and nothing is different.

It's like a fist is squeezing around her heart, robbing her of her breath.

"Kate," he acknowledges, sinks into a lounge chair perpendicular to her.

"Hey, Castle."

So polite. Everything is just so polite between them now, detached. She misses the passion between them, sometimes, that fire that once burned so bright and all-consuming.

Until it consumed them entirely, turned to ice, sharp shards that sliced and slashed until they had bled dry.

And they became quiet.

"Where's everyone else?"

"Kitchen." She presses a thumb to her glass, watches the print pearl against the cold surface.

"Lanie's inside, helping Ryan and Jenny with the barbeque. Roland isn't here yet." She's glad for this, their 4th of July barbeque a tradition that withstood career changes and moves, significant others and jealousies and marriages and break-ups, babies and miscarriages and divorces, their core group forever holding strong - Espo, Ryan, Lanie, herself… and Castle.

"Wow, Roland still, huh? That's the second year in a row," he grins, his eyebrow raised playfully.

"Yeah. Maybe Lanie has finally found her match." She meets his gaze, and his smile feels so familiar still that warmth sluices through her, mingles with the melancholy that's been gripping her all day, and she swallows hard.

"They banned me out here to get some rest." She chuckles, sounds forlorn even to her own ears.

She feels his eyes on her, the way he still worries about her, even now. "Rough week?"

"Yeah."

She leaves it at that; there isn't much else to say. Silence creeps between them once more. She watches her daughters as they goof around with the friends they've known since everyone was born, almost shocked at how tall they're becoming even though she sees them every week, so smart and funny and strong, the best parts of both of them.

"How's Vanessa?" She feels compelled to ask, even though the answer always hurts in that deep, visceral way. The worst part is that she likes Vanessa; she's sweet and funny and she's good to their daughters. But the lump sits thick in her throat and she swallows hard, trying to push down the melancholy.

"Good. She's good. She'll join us later. What about Derek?" His voice is gruff and her heart thumps painfully against her ribs.

"How did you…?"

"Josie," he clarifies, and Kate feels a rush of displeasure at her older daughter who can never keep her big mouth shut about anything. She can hardly imagine a more awkward conversation than discussing a possible new love interest with her ex-husband.

She shrugs. "We'll see."

"He make you happy?" This time she knows she's not imagining the growl of displeasure in his voice, and anger rises to the surface, quick and vicious.

"And what about you, _Rick_? Does she make you happy?"

But he's quiet, his hands knit together so tightly that his knuckles whiten.

"She's not you, Kate."

The confession is grave and earnest, and completely throws her. As quickly as it rose, her anger deflates, leaves room only for the gaping emptiness within her that tries to swallow her whole.

"Don't. Castle, please," she pleads, doesn't know what she's pleading for. The lump sits thick in her throat, her eyes brimming with tears that she desperately tries to suppress.

"Too bad that time traveler was wrong, huh?" It takes her a moment to catch onto his train of thought until she remembers, and then she snorts with laughter despite herself. It shouldn't be funny; there weren't any energy wars, there definitely won't be a third child between them, and they are no longer married and it hurts, it hurts, everything hurts.

But hasn't he always done this for her, dragged her from within herself when the darkness threatened to engulf her? And so she laughs because it's so easy to fall back into their familiar banter; too easy sometimes.

"Well who knows, Castle," she replies, tongue-in-cheek. "There's a few more years left until '_his_' time."

"Yeah, who knows…" He leans forward in his chair, sits like he always has when he's shared every important moment with her, surprising her when he reaches for her hand. His fingers curl around hers, his thumb brushing across her knuckles and it's soft and innocent and so familiar that her skin tingles and she aches with a yearning she's believed had been long lost.

She thinks it'll just always be there, haunt her until the day she dies.

"Maybe we'll find each other again, in twenty years or so, when we're old and wiser? Maybe we'll make it then?" He sounds forlorn and hopeful both, and she feels torn asunder, drowning in the pain and grasping at the proverbial straw.

"Or in fifteen?"

He nods. "Or ten?"

The tears are unstoppable now, run in silent rivulets down her cheeks. "I've only ever wanted to grow old with you."

"Kate…" He croaks and their eyes meet, and hold, his fingers tightening around hers, and she hears it hanging between them even though neither one of them will speak it out loud.

_Always_.

And then he drops his gaze, swallows so hard that she can see his Adam's apple bobbing, and she pulls her hand from his grasp, putting distance between them. She swipes the tears off her cheeks, gulps down a large swig of wine to swallow the lump of sadness that is choking her, that may never dissipate again.

The wood creaks as he rises from his seat, and Castle curls his palm to her kneecap for a barely-there moment.

"As long as you don't 'cheat' on me with Patterson or Conrad and the likes, we'll be good."

"Hey, Castle." He turns back for her, still boyish and hopeful when he looks at her like that, despite everything that's happened and it reminds her of the man she first met all those years ago, the man who will forever hold her heart.

"I'll always be a one-writer girl."

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_End_


End file.
